


The Road to Recovery (S13E17 coda)

by Redqueenswrath



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Caring Sam Winchester, Coda, Episode: s13e17 The Thing, Gabriel in the Men of Letters Bunker, Gen, Injured Gabriel (Supernatural), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 10:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redqueenswrath/pseuds/Redqueenswrath
Summary: Sam deals with their unexpected house guest





	The Road to Recovery (S13E17 coda)

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, yeah... I've got a kink for nurturing, kind Sam. Sue me.

Dean and Ketch vanished into the rift and Sam fought the urge to punch a wall. His brother was so fucking  _ stubborn! _ Reigning in his temper with monumental effort, Sam schooled his face into a calming smile and turned to their unexpected houseguest. Gabriel was exactly where Ketch had left him- slumped over in the chair, staring blankly at the wall. The hunter couldn’t see a single trace of the vibrant Trickster or all-powerful Archangel he had once been. Covered in blood and bruises, lips sewn shut by cruel stitches, Gabriel was a shadow of his former self.

 

“Hey… Gabe, it’s Sam. Can you remember me? Sam Winchester?” The broken angel didn’t even acknowledge him. Sam tried to contain the surge of pain and disappointment that caused as he reached for a small scalpel in his medical kit. “Well, let's get those stitches out.”

 

Little by little, Sam coaxed the traumatized being into letting him tend to the badly scarred over wounds. They had obviously been in place for a long time, and removing them would be nearly as painful as putting them in had to have been. The younger Winchester retrieved a soft rag soaked in warm water and pressed it to Gabriel’s bloody, chapped lips.

 

“First I’m gonna soften the stitches up, ok? It’ll make it easier to remove them.” There was still no response, and Sam’s heart sunk into the vicinity of his feet. He vaguely remembered that in mythology, Loki had pissed off the Dwarven God Brokk so badly that he had sewn Loki’s lips shut. If that was actually true… Talk about PTSD inducing. Sam shuddered as he turned the cloth over and kept soaking the stitches.

 

“What the hell did they do to you, man?” Gabriel stared blankly at the floor. 

 

Once he determined that the stitches were as soft as they were going to get, Sam picked up the scalpel again. “Alright, time for them to come out. I need you to hold really still, ok?” Slowly, so as to not spook the angel, Sam cupped his chin to steady him and began slicing at the thick threads. It didn’t take long for him to cut them all, but Gabriel  _ still  _ said nothing. 

 

“Ok, I’m going to pull the threads out now. This is probably going to sting like fuck, and I’m really really sorry but it’s got to be done.” Sam tugged as gently as he could, coaxing the threads through the flesh that had all but grown over them. Gabriel whimpered softly, his whole body going rigid, but remained where he was. Perhaps he was simply too weak to even try to escape. Perhaps he remembered and trusted Sam on some level. The Winchester was praying for the second option. The final thread came loose and Sam cast it aside, watching as Gabriel’s trembling fingers slowly made their way up to touch his unsealed lips. The angel’s expression morphed into one of disbelief as he felt his way along.

 

“There, that’s better. Look, if you don’t want to talk you don’t have to. Trust me, I get it. Everybody in this bunker has anxiety and depression and PTSD out the ass. I won’t make you do anything, but if you  _ want _ to, I can help you get cleaned up. I swear, a warm bath works miracles.” To Sam’s shock, the Archangel actually nodded. It was a minute movement, barely there at all, and he still didn’t look up, but it was something! 

 

“Alright. Come on, then. The amount of hot water here has got to be some sort of magic, and there’s no other explanation for how amazing the water pressure is.” Sam was aware that he was rambling, filling the silence with nonsense, but he couldn’t help himself. He offered a hand to Gabriel and was shocked when the angel actually took it and allowed Sam to pull him to his feet. His legs refused to support him and the shorter man nearly collapsed, held up only by Sam’s muscular arms that caught and steadied him.

 

“Want me to carry you? I know it’s kinda humiliating but I swear I won’t tell anyone.” A flicker of something that might have been amusement flitted through Gabriel’s eyes, too quick to be pinned down, but he still didn’t speak. However, he wrapped his weak, rather emaciated arms around Sam’s neck. Sam chuckled and swept Gabriel up into his arms, bridal style. It was alarming, how little the angel weighed, and Sam quickly vowed to start stuffing him with food as soon as the angel’s stomach could handle it. He wasn’t sure if angels  _ could _ vomit, but he really didn’t want to find out. Sam was a sympathetic puker- any time Dean drank too much or came down with a stomach bug, Sam’s attempts at caring for him usually resulted in him upchucking right alongside Dean. So yeah, not a fate he wanted to tempt. 

 

Sam kicked the door of the bathroom he had claimed for himself in and set Gabriel down on the closed toilet. He started a bath running, checking the temperature to make sure it wouldn’t burn the wounded man, and dumped an absurd amount of bubbles in. “You tell Dean I have bubble bath and I’ll hide every single piece of candy in this bunker.” Sam waved a finger mock-threateningly. Gabriel still didn’t smile or speak, but the corners of his mouth twitched a little. Sam took that as a good sign. 

 

“Do you need help getting undressed?” Eyes locked firmly on the tiled floor, Gabriel nodded slightly. Sam gently patted him on the shoulder before carefully tugging the filthy shirt up. He cast the blood and dirt soiled cloth aside and winced at all of the wounds on the angel’s torso. His skin was just as filthy as the shirt had been and was marred by criss crossing scars and fresh cuts and bruises, a testimate to the amount of abuse the angel had endured. 

 

Sam braced himself. “Alright, time to get rid of those pants.” Something like fear flickered in Gabriel’s dull eyes but he obediently lifted his hips when Sam started working the disgusting cloth down his legs. His eyes caught the dried blood all over the crotch and seat and Sam’s stomach rolled- he knew all too well exactly what sort of abuse left stains like that. He’d suffered the same at the hands of Lucifer. Refusing to comment on the trauma, Sam carefully helped the angel to his feet and guided him into the tub. The bathtub was rather absurd- it was long and deep enough that Sam could stretch his entire 6’4” frame out and be covered all the way up to his mid chest. Gabriel sank like a stone, only his head sticking out, and Sam huffed a laugh. 

 

“Alright, let's get you cleaned up. I’m gonna start with your hair, ok?” Giving the traumatized man plenty of time to protest or pull away, Sam squirted an ample amount of his favorite shampoo into the rats nest that was formerly Gabriel’s golden curls. The low groan that crawled its way out of Gabriel’s chest when Sam worked his fingers in and began scrubbing was the most noise Sam had heard him make yet, and he smiled as he worked- half scalp massage, half hair washing. He carefully finger-combed the angel’s long hair, loosening the knots and mats as delicately as he possibly could. After a few minutes, he gave up and soaked Gabriel's hair in conditioner.

 

“Trust me on this one- this’ll help get those knots out. Let it sit for a while, I'll scrub your back.” Gabriel obediently sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees in the first voluntary and unassisted motion Sam had seen since he had been revealed by Ketch. Sam wet a wash cloth, doused it heavily in soap, and got to work cleaning the filth from Gabriel’s skin. He had to stop and rinse the rag repeatedly and the water was slowly turning a dingy grey color. Gross. The hunter moved on to scrubbing Gabriel’s arms and hands. He applied gentle pressure as he worked, massaging tense and exhausted muscles. 

 

Somewhere along the line, Gabriel began to doze off. He didn't really fall asleep, still unable to let his guard down that far, but he allowed Sam's gentle ministrations to lull him into a peaceful, floating headspace. Gabriel hadn't felt this good in many years, and a groan that was shaped somewhat like Sam’s name escaped his lips without him meaning to.

 

Sam’s head snapped up, not sure if Gabriel had actually spoken or if that was just a moan. Regardless, he was pleased that the wounded angel was relaxing enough to actually make noise at all. Sam scrubbed Gabriel’s chest, taking great care around the long parallel gouges on his ribs that looked like whip marks, before moving to sit towards the foot of the tub.

 

“Time for your legs, Gabe.” There was a long pause before the trembling man extended a foot. The hunter recognized burn scars on his feet and his own ached in sympathy. He worked both legs from the tips of his toes to his knees, taking quite a while to massage the arches of his feet, before giving a resigned sigh- time for the uncomfortable bit. 

 

He sat back, deliberately giving the angel plenty of space, and kept his eyes firmly on Gabriel’s face when he spoke. “Gabe, we’ve got to get the rest of you. Look, you don't have to tell me- I can see what happened.” The angel blanched. “I… I understand more than I care to admit. So, you can either do it yourself or I can help you. I promise I won't look, or touch you anymore than absolutely necessary, but it  _ has  _ to be done.” 

 

Gabriel clearly contemplated his options before pointing a trembling hand at Sam. The Winchester nodded.

 

“I'm going to let the water out, ok? It's really filthy. You can sit on the edge of the tub while I do this.” Sam's voice was pitched low and soft, soothing in the same way he would a wounded animal. He tugged the rubber stopper out of the plug and watched in morbid fascination as the solid grey water swirled down the drain. He turned the water on again and activated the shower head, setting it to a gently pulsing option against Gabriel’s back. The angel hummed in approval before letting Sam carefully help him to sit on the porcelain ledge. “Alright here we go. Seriously, kick me or something if you want me to stop.”

 

Gabriel made a choking sound that might have been a snort of laughter in another life. Sam eyed him curiously before soaping the rag up again and beginning to work on Gabriel’s thighs, moving slowly upwards to his groin. He was trying his hardest not to look at the flaccid length in front of him, but couldn't help stealing a glance when it jumped and chubbed up a little. The angel made a noise that was definitely embarrassment and Sam chuckled softly.

 

“It's ok, man. Really. Your body’s probably all but forgotten what it feels like to be touched and not be in pain. Totally normal reaction.” What Sam didn't say was that he had traumatized Dean in the exact same way after his hundred year stint in Hell. The older Winchester never spoke of it but Sam knew it had freaked him out, which was why Sam was so glad that  _ he  _ was the one caring for the wounded archangel. He could relate on a cellular level. Sam started talking about random bullshit- hunts he had been on, people he had met, his theory that Dean and Castiel were secretly screwing like rabbits and had been for years… anything to fill the silence and keep Gabriel distracted from the cloth that was now washing his most intimate areas. 

 

Finally, Sam sat back. “All done. Let's get you rinsed off, wash the conditioner out of your hair. You can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in, even though they'll be way too big, and maybe I can help you shave?”

 

The Archangel’s hand came up to touch the scruffy beard that still covered his sunken cheeks. He cringed and nodded firmly, eager to be rid of it. Sam smiled.

 

“Maybe a haircut, too? I'm not fantastic at it but I can handle trimming it up.” Another nod. 

Getting the angel on his feet in the slick tub was difficult, and Sam ended up having to strip down to his boxers and get in to help keep him upright while the shower did its work. He changed the setting on the showerhead to a pulsing massage and chuckled when Gabriel gave a pornographic moan in response. Sam helped him wash the creamy conditioner out of his hair and was pleased to see that the last of the knots came out easily. Once out and dried off, Sam left Gabriel bundled into the fluffiest towel he owned and scrambled to get two sets of sleep pants and t-shirts. He was back in a flash and helped the angel get dressed, resettling the towel around Gabriel’s shoulders for the shave and haircut. 

 

“Shave first?” Sam asked and Gabriel nodded enthusiastically, trying to hop up to sit on the counter unassisted. He nearly made it but Sam had to intervene at the last second to keep him from cracking his head on the mirror. The hunter didn't comment as he first used clippers to cut down the worst of the beard, then lathered and shaved him with quick, efficient motions. He wiped the last of the foam away and Gabriel tried to turn around and look in the mirror.

 

“Wait, let me get your hair first. Your makeover isn't done yet.” Gabriel actually stuck his tongue out at the hunter, startling a laugh out of Sam. “See, you're already feeling more like yourself. I told you bubble baths were magic!” Gabriel rolled his eyes but didn't refute the statement. 

 

Trimming Gabriel’s damp hair was easy enough. Sam was no stylist but snipping off about two inches brought the locks back up to where he remembered them being. He swept the clippings off the counter and into the trash can and lobbed the towel into the dirty hamper before motioning for Gabriel to turn around. The angel obeyed hesitantly, an ear splitting grin slowly creeping up onto his face as he took in his almost normal appearance. Granted, he needed to put a few pounds back on but the face in the mirror was very clearly Gabriel. He spun around and clumsily lunged at Sam, hugging him for all he was worth. 

 

“You're welcome!” Sam laughed, easily supporting the other man. “So, food first or sleep?” Gabriel's stomach grumbled loudly, announcing the verdict.

 

“Alright, then. To the kitchen!” The younger Winchester gathered his charge onto his back in a piggyback style hold, snorting with laughter as Gabriel kicked him like a horse. It was weak, far too weak, but it was a sign that the real Gabriel was in there somewhere. He wasn't going to be ok tomorrow, or in a week. It would be a long road to recovery for the physically and mentally injured angel, but that spark of humor gave Sam hope that he would get there in his own time.


End file.
